


Drag Me Straight From Hell

by Eden Marie Dawson (Her_Morningstar)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6711493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Her_Morningstar/pseuds/Eden%20Marie%20Dawson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester didn't believe in love. At all. So what happens when someone walks into his life that refuses to be pushed away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drag Me Straight From Hell

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot for right now, but if I get enough requests, I'll turn it into a chapter-fic.

Love had always been a joke to him, something that he spouted off to whatever woman he was hitting on at the bar that night, just to get her back to some cheap motel, or at the very least, the back seat of his car and have a few rough and rowdy moments with her. He'd promise to call, but they both knew, deep down, that he never would. He'd never see them again, but he'd leave each and every one hanging on with the hope that he'd whisk them off into some sort of cooked up fantasy involving happily ever after.

It was all a lie. His whole life had become one gigantic lie, the lines between what was real and fake becoming so blurred that even he could barely tell the difference anymore. That was the life of a Hunter, though. You couldn't ever get attached when you were in this line of work. If you became attached to someone, you became vulnerable, and then, you put both yourself and the person you cared for in mortal danger. He had lost his mother that way, his brother, Sam, had lost his girlfriend that way. He wasn't about to go down the same road that lead his father to insanity, chasing down demons that were halfway inside of himself, always just a smoke wisp away from catching. No, he wasn't going to travel down that road.

That was his plan, anyway. All his life he had been so careful, keeping his true identity a secret to everyone who he couldn't trust, and those he could still didn't know everything about him. Not even Sam, who he had shared everything with at one point in time, knew just how fucked up his soul had become. And he wasn't just referring to the stint he spent trapped in Hell.

Dean Winchester was a 'fuck'em and leave'em' kind of guy, and he not once had ever considered himself to be even slightly interested in men, either in the platonic or sexual fashion. He hardly kept friends, except for his brother, Sam, and Bobby, who had been like a father to him when his own father had been out of the picture for most of his life. He was the very definition of 'loner', and up until just a week or so ago, he had been completely content with that.

Then Castiel, God-damned Angel of the Lord, had sauntered so easily into his life, proceeding to fuck up everything that Dean had set into motion to be considered a somewhat 'normal' routine. With his piercing blue eyes, magnetically drawing him inside whenever they focused on him, and that ever-so-fucking-annoying head tilt that caused the angel to look like an innocent puppy and sent sparks of something more primal shifting inside Dean's belly, Castiel had quickly become both the bane of Dean's existence, and everything he wanted to get out of life.

That was exactly six months ago, and Dean was still having trouble coming to grips with the fact that this man was planning to stick around for a while. Indefinitely, according to Sam, who seemed completely content with that idea. Of course he did, Sam loved people. He yearned for a family, for companionship, just like their mother had. Dean had thought him a fool for so many years, now, here he sat, thumbing through his Dad's old journal as he often did when he was overly frustrated and just looking for a distraction, wondering if both Sam and his mother had the right idea all along.

"You seem tense, Dean."

He nearly threw the journal across the room, after jumping almost a foot in the air. He recognized the voice, knowing it belonged to the infuriatingly sexy trench-coat wearing angel, but he had still asked him repeatedly, no, demanded that he stopped sneaking up on him. Judging by the way that Castiel's eyebrows were lifted toward his hairline, and the slight twitch at the right corner of his mouth as if he were fighting off a smile, Dean figured his demands had been seen as nothing more than amusing requests that were clearly not going to be met.

"I'm fine, Cas. What the hell do you want?" He dropped John's journal onto the coffee-table with an uncerimonious thump, then stalked over to the rickety old card table that he had been using for a dining table, shifting through the discarded fast food wrappers and empty beer bottles until he had found a half-depleted pack of Marlboro cigarettes. He slid one of the filters between his chapped lips and removed it from the pack, flicking his zippo open on his jean-clad thigh before raising the flame to the open end of the cigarette.

He didn't even get the chance to inhale before Castiel had taken the burning cigarette from his lips and dropped it to the hardwood floor, crushing it beneath the toe of his boot. "You know that you should not be smoking, Dean. It will ruin your health."

Now he knew he was fucking with him. His health? Dean had been living on junk food and beer for the majority of his life, not to mention he had died more times than he could count, so he wasn't exactly worried about getting cancer from a few lousy cigarettes. 

"Answer my question, Cas. What the fuck are you doing here? Do you have some kind of angelic mission that you need mine and Sam's help on? Some big bad that we need to gank? Well? Are you going to spill it or stand there staring at me with your God damned head tilted?"

Dean's anger was throwing Cas for a loop. He had never seen him so frustrated. He reached out, silently probing him to see if he could detect if there was some outer force causing this level of anxiety and anger to rise up within the Hunter. Blue eyes widened with surprise, causing Dean to glare daggers at him.

"I am the cause for your distress. Dean?"

"God damnit, Cas, I told you to lay off with the freaky angel mind probe shit!"

"You are avoiding my question. Why am I the one that is causing you such pain? Have I done something to upset you?" The look that came over his face then was one that, when Dean noticed it, was enough to make it feel like someone had struck him in the gut with Thor's hammer.

"For fuck's sake, no, Cas, you didn't do anything wrong. Now get on with why the fuck you're here so I can get back to what I was doing."

"Reading your father's old journal? What good will that serve?"

"It helps me think, okay? It helps keep my mind off of shit that I really don't want to be thinking about."

Castiel opened his mouth to ask for Dean to elaborate, but quickly snapped it shut once he caught sight of the glare coming from the young Hunter. "Very well. If you must know, I did not come here with a job for you. Nor did I come here to ask for Sam. I came here in search of you, Dean. You have been avoiding me for this past week and a half, and I would like to know why. We are supposed to be working together, after all, and that is a little difficult to accomplish when I cannot find you."

The son of a bitch was actually cracking jokes. He shook his head and returned to the table to search this time for the left over bottle of Jack Daniels that he had lying around there somewhere. Damn, he needed to clean up. He hadn't realized how much of a pig he had been being since Sam had decided to shack up with the freaking Trickster himself. A shudder escaped down his spine at the thought of those two doing...well. anything, together. Dean would have trusted Sam's heart to Ruby faster than he would have to Gabriel. The fact that he was Castiel's brother wasn't helping his case any.

"Well, you found me," he extended his arms, the surly glare still in place, the bottle of Jack Daniels clasped in one hand. "Now get the fuck out of my apartment."

Castiel stepped closer, carefully manuevering through the trash, dirty laundry, filthy magazines and empty beer bottles that littered the floor, until he had Dean pressed back against the plastic card table. It groaned in protest under Dean's weight as he tried to shift back onto it to put some space between himself and the angel. "Cas? Personal space, dude. You're in total violation of i-"

His words were cut off in a choke as the angel grasped the back of his head and jerked him forward until their lips were crushed together in a rather brusing first kiss. It was a mixture of teeth and tongue, Castiel trying to dominate the kiss that Dean was desperately trying to fight his way out of. When he finally did manage to break free, his cheeks were dusted with red color, and he had been reduced to a panting mess. "The fuck do you think you're doing you asshole?"

"Precisely what you wanted me to do." Castiel sounded so confident, so smugly sure that it was making Dean's fingers curl into fists. He swung out at him, just barely managing to clip his jaw before Castiel had him face down on the floor, his knee grinding into his lower back and his right arm twisted painfully behind him. Castiel's left hand was pushing Dean's head into the filthy, cracked hardwood flooring. 

"If you like it rough, Dean, we will need to develop some kind of safe word before beginning."

That only spurred to piss him off further. He thrashed under the angel's weight, knocking him slightly off balance from surprise if nothing else. Dean scrambled to his feet, sliding immediately into a fighting stance. "Who the fuck said I wanted you to...to...to violate me like that?"

"I merely kissed you, Dean, there was no violation involved. Besides, you wanted me to kiss you."

"The hell I did!" He shouted back in defiance. In denial.

Castiel lifted his index finger and tapped his temple. "I can see it, Dean. I can see everything that you are thinking. I can see into your soul. That mark on your arm is not merely a scar. You are bound to me in ways that you can not begin to even imagine."

Dean was staring at him in shock, mixed with a slight amount of fear. He hated feeling vulnerable, and that's what Castiel's statement was causing him to feel. He felt cold gripping atg his insides, causing his knees to go weak and the need to sit down before he fell down became too great to resist. He crumpled into the nearby armchair, wincing when he sat on one of the broken springs that had burst through the worn fabric, but otherwise said nothing in reply to the angel's admission. He felt the cold feeling growing, however, as he watched Castiel stalk forward, almost as if he were an animal stalking its final meal.

"You cannot deny that your body, your heart, your very soul calls out to me, Dean Winchester. I can feel it, just as plain as if I were touching you. Now your mind, that is what is causing you so much grief. So much anger. You are in denial of how you feel about me."

 

"Wait a minute," he breathed, his voice just barely kept from cracking as he shifted in the uncomfortable armchair. "If you could feel me, could tell what I was thinking and feeling, then why did you play dumb when you first got here? Why did you seem so surprised to find out that you're the cause to my fucking problems?"

Castiel's lips turned upward into an almost devilish smirk. "Because, Dean, if I had swept in here with my normal, dominating personality, I wouldn't have been able to lure you in as easily. You see, I had been watching you long before God commanded me to rip you from Hell. You were so interesting... like a butterfly trapped under glass. Always beating yourself against the sides of the jar, wanting to break free and willing to break your wings in order to do so. So when my assignment was made clear that I was to watch over you, I knew I had to form some kind of softer persona, otherwise you and I were just going to but heads constantly from the momnent that we met face to face. I suppose I did do one thing, right, though, when I chose this vessel. Even though your mind screams at you that you are not into men in a sexual fashion, this body seems to give you all the right feelings in all the right places."

Dean's mouth was practically hanging open now, and he forced himself to snap it shut. He didn't have a reply for this, for any of this. No snarky comeback, no bitter reply...nothing but the loud thump-thump-thump of his heart that was echoing inside his head. He had to figure out a way to get out of this situation before...

"Before what, Dean? Before the world that you have spent so many years of your life fooling finds out just who you are? Or before you succumb to the fact that the next time you see your little brother, you're going to be sporting a sizable limp because I am going to take you and fuck you until you can no longer walk properly?"

Castiel was leaning over him now, hands on the arms of the chair, blocking his exit. His heart beat louder and louder until it was the only thing he could hear in the room. His emerald eyes widened just a fraction more as he read the words that were falling from the angel's soft, pink lips:

"You are mine, Dean Winchester."


End file.
